Moo.

Posted on Wednesday, 1 February 2012.

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(and this is how I want the Brittana kiss to happen)
After being forced to witness another excessively long tongue-sucking demonstration of awkwardness and repulsiveness from Finn and Rachel, Santana was in a crabby mood. As usual, Rachel and Finn managed to turn a weekly assignment into a Finchel presentation.
Rolling her eyes at the memory, Santana opened her locker to pick up a notebook before heading home.
A small sheet of paper came fluttering out, slowly gliding downwards before finally landing on the floor.
Intrigued, Santana picked it up, and when she turned the paper over, she immediately recognized Brittany’s handwriting.
I love you, Santana. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else in this world. I love the way you remind me that I’m a unicorn whenever I’m about to lose my horn. I love the way you look at me like I’m the smartest person in the world. I love how you smile when you say my name, and the way your face just lights up so brightly when I say yours. I love how you look at me when you think no one’s looking at you. I love the sound of your laugh, when you just let go of all the negative stuff and laugh with rainbows and sunshine. I love how magical you are when you sing. I love you for being brave and tough and strong and so protective. I love you for being so sweet and caring on the inside. I love you for being you.
Will you be my Valentine?
Santana tightened her grip on the paper and frantically scanned the hallway, eager to give her answer as soon as possible. The words on it sent her heart racing faster than ever before, while fire rushed through her veins and heated her skin.
There! Britt was down at the end of the corridor, talking to Mike and Tina. She was making large gestures with her arms to demonstrate or emphasize what she was talking about in that adorably dorky way that was just so Brittany.
The students in the crowd that didn’t make way for the top cheerleader were shoved aside without a second thought. Before she knew it, Santana was throwing herself into Brittany’s arms like a six-year-old child.
Brittany just barely let out a surprised “Hi, Sant-” before reflexively catching Santana and tensing to maintain balance. “-tana.”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Santana exclaimed, for once not caring that they were in the middle of a crowded area, in a judgmental high school. For once not seeing the looks and not hearing the whispers. For once not worrying about what anyone else might be thinking of her because right now, none of that mattered. It was just Brittany.
Taking advantage of the surge of shameless courage blazing through her, Santana pressed her lips against Brittany’s in a kiss that made everything and everyone else disappear in a haze that was almost like being drunk.
When their lips parted, Santana was breathless, but still managed to say, “Brittany S. Pierce, I love you too, and if you asked anyone else to be your Valentine, I will stab them with the razor blades in my hair.”

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